Alive
by NickyM96
Summary: Miss Parker finds a traumatized Jarod sitting outside her house and is suprised to find out what has him so upset.


Title - Alive  
Rating - PG  
Category - JMPR, Angst  
Summary - Response to Mickey's Pic challenge. Jarod sitting outside of MP's house and . . .   
Disclaimer - Mickey made me do it !!! These characters aren't mine. Just playing with them for a bit. They'll be back all nice and neat on their shelves without much damage :-)  
  
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Alive  
by Nicky  
  
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There he is. He's like a sitting duck. I could shoot him from here. One shot and the chase would be over. But then, I'd have his blood on my hands. I don't think I could live with that.  
  
I could always call for the sweeper team. He's been out there for an hour. It doesn't look like he's leaving anytime soon. They could be here inside of twenty minutes and handle this situation for me. That's what I've been trained to do. That's what I should do.  
  
So why am I walking away from my room and down the stairs, clad in nothing but a tank top and a pair of Tommy's boxers? Why am I opening the door to him and calling his name? When he turns around, I can see the answer to my questions etched on his tear soaked face. This was not a taunting visit. This was not a visit to leave some obscure clue. This visit had nothing to do with the Centre or our families. This was about us. The REAL us. Not the 'us' who plays the game of cat and mouse. But the 'us' from long ago when we were just two lonely kids who needed each other. Tonight, I could see that he needed me.  
  
"What's the matter?" I ask him. He doesn't say anything so I reach out and touch his shoulder gently. He gasps as if my touch burned him. But before I can pull my hand away, he grabs it and clutches it tightly, holding it up to his cheek.  
  
"So warm," he croaks, his voice scratchy. I assume he's been crying the whole time he was out here. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheek into my hand. He turns his face and lays a kiss into my open palm.  
  
"Jarod?" I ask him questioningly.  
  
"Your hand. It's warm. So alive. I can feel your pulse."  
  
Obviously something is going on with him. But I don't think my porch is the place for me to try and figure it out. Even though I didn't call any sweepers, it doesn't mean they're not still watching. Every second we're out here is a threat to both our lives.  
  
"Let's go in the house," I suggest. When he doesn't move, I have to physically pull him to get him to stand up and follow me. Once we're inside, I see that he's shivering. I go to get him a blanket, but he pulls on my hand, stopping me.  
  
"Don't go," he begs. The look in his eyes breaks my heart. He seemed utterly lost. There really wasn't any other way to describe it. And at that moment there wasn't anything he could ask me that I'd refuse.  
  
"Okay," I say, giving him a reassuring smile. We sit on the couch and I wrap my arms around him to share my warmth. He snuggles into my embrace, his cold nose finding refuge in the warm crook of my neck. We sit like that for long, leisurely minutes until I feel his trembling slow down. His shallow breathing returns to normal. But as his warm breath tickles my neck, I start to feel my own pulse speed up.  
  
"What's this about?" I ask him, gently running my hand up and down his back in a hopefully comforting motion. He seems to enjoy it, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling himself closer to me. His lips accidentally brush the skin just below my ear and I have to suppress a moan.  
  
"I saw you dead. You were so cold," he whispers. "You were so still. And I couldn't save you."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
He pulls out of my arms, looking intensely at me. I could see the agitation starting to return. That's not what I wanted. I had just gotten him settled down. I place a hand on the center of his chest and the other behind his neck. It's a move I learned in a massage class I took once. Something about it centering you or being extremely comforting or something like that. I don't exactly remember the why, but it seems to have the desired effect anyway and he calms again.   
  
"I was at the hospital. Pretending to be a doctor. A patient came in. Female. Tall, thin, dark hair. She looked so much like you." He closes his eyes, as if reliving the memory. "She had been . . . . raped. And beaten. I tried to save her, but she died. I couldn't save her. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Miss Parker." He sinks to to floor next to the couch and his tears start anew. It all becomes clear to me. He thought I was dead. That he couldn't save me. And it just about destroyed him. The implication of it all blows my mind. But it gives me the courage to save him from this world he's trapped himself in by whatever means necessary.  
  
"Jarod," I call, kneeling down next to him. "I'm okay. I'm right here." I place my hands on his face and force him to look at me. "See? I'm fine. That wasn't me. I'm alive."  
  
"You're alive," he repeats, trying to make himself believe it. But he still keeps on blinking and staring, to make sure his eyes wasn't playing tricks on him. He needs assurance that I'm here. That I'm safe.  
  
"I am. I'm here," I promise him. I could tell that he still wasn't sure it wasn't some sort or trick. So I pull him closer to me and lay his head on my chest. He listens to my heart beat intently, finally realizing the truth.  
  
"It's okay. I'm here. I'm fine," I repeat over and over in time to my heart beats. I soon replace my words with light kisses. First to his forehead, then to his eyes. I brush my lips down the bridge of his nose and leave a kiss at the end. Next, his cheeks receive a kiss followed by his chin. By the time I reach the corner of his mouth, his heart was once again racing, mimicking my own.   
  
"Feel me, Jarod," I pant, trying to get my pulse under control. "Feel my life. My heart. It beats only for you."  
  
I feel his his intense scrutiny on my face, wanting desperately to believe what I'm saying. I don't know why I decided now to be honest with him, and myself, but it was out there. I laid my heart open for him. All he has to do it take it.  
  
"I thought you were dead. And I felt like I died with you."  
  
"I'm alive, Jarod. And I want you to live. Live with me. Live for me," I plead.   
  
I see his eyes light back up as realization finally sinks in. The corners of his mouth lift up in a smile before I lose sight of it as it covers my own. The kiss remains gentle for only a moment, his need for life too great. He reaches deep into me, feeding off of whatever I was offering, which was everything. I run my hands all over his body, feeling each part come alive as I make contact.  
  
We reluctantly break the kiss as the need for oxygen becomes too great. I feel as if he's drained me completely. But ironically, I feel more alive than ever. I gave him my life, my heart. And in the process, I ended up with so much more in return.  
  
"I love you," he whispers to me, nuzzling my cheek with his nose.  
  
"I love you too," I tell him.   
  
His lips find mine again and the dance begins anew. The kiss is gentler this time. Less desperate. But just as passionate. We break again and he pulls me to his chest as we settle back on the couch. Together. As one. Our breathing as one, our hearts beating as one. He holds me all night and I eventually fall asleep. Secure in the arms of new life. Of new love.  
  
The end.  
  
Romantic or too sappy? Sweet or kind of cheesy? Let me know what you think either way :-) 


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